Poetry / 24 Tears
Twentyfour tears from a dead angels eyes leak black onto the pillow where she lays her head, cracked and faded like an old china doll…
Her memories stir through her lifeless corpse and a smile breaks her blue lips. “Not here”, she says, then shes gone…
The blood turns to ashes and a sense of loss prevails, a disembodied voice tells me “No one wins” and I accept this without question…
A scream transcends reality and a thousnd mirrors smash, oblivion becomes truth and we all become lies…
Perceptions alter and what was white becomes red, the innocents have seen this before, ask them…
The spirit of perfection is alive here, offering her pale soft hand to the blinded men who beg for absolution from the eternity they suffer, beg for the real death that both she and I know can never be achieved…
Turning to me she becomes stricken with infinity, aware of the aware, and I see that where her eyes once were bright, shining endless time, now theres only lascivious insanity…
A wretched soul, bereft of the compassion she had promised, become a vessel for the souls of the souless only to be deprived her own…
No sympathy for the dispossessed, the broken or the lonely…
“You’ll never be forgotten” She whispers in my ear,
“You’ll never be forgiven” She whispers in my head,
“You’ll never be allowed to die” She screams into my dreams…
The sickness that destroys, the certainty of demise, the abject humiliation of being aware…
Glass shards reflect the hollow, force the truth and expect all that can’t be given for their troubles…
“Follow the future” Cry the beggars from the eternal damnation that they bare, “Don’t be afraid”...
Tempted by temptation,
Tarnished by a scarlet imperfection that appeals to the wasters and the the wasted,
I accept the offer and begin to fall…
Into the mouth of redemption the burnt soar, ushered on by madness and contaminated with the sanity of the unquestioned…
Abandoned by my guide,
Forsaken and left alone,
Smashed and broken by the bones of everyone I once loved…
A spiteful laugh echos in a thousand recognisable voices that pivot and crash against the walls of this unfamiliar cell, filling it slowly with the hatred I already drown in…
The demons appear then, reveal themselves finally, these hideous wraiths of illusion and disillusion who wear the shrouds of shadow that blanket every corner of every consciousness they’ve ever consumed…
“See, you’ll NEVER be forgiven”,
I hear her voice and believe for a moment I’m saved,
“Never forget, never forgotten” she speaks so softly…
Porcelain blades swing,
Cut me loose from the umbilical binds that have burnt and slit my wrists,
Pools of despair join the rush as it spills from my veins…
Acceptance wins the war, an undisputed battle of attrition that I always knew I wouldn’t win…
I give in…
The pleas of the suffering are once again ignored as my angel appears and blankets me in the warmth that only submission has to offer…
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Wow! You swept me right into the tumoil of your piece. Well done!
I’m not usually caught so off guard, especially by something so disspiriting. You definitely caught me off guard. Is it so disspiriting though? After the last line, I’m not so sure. Does the last line offer hope or just surrender? Is their hope in surrender? Is that enough?
I really like this.
My highest marks!
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First off, this is good language. The first line has a clear rhythm, and it’s pentameter. The first two feet are dactyllic: “Twentyfour tears from a.” (I’ve put the stressed syllables in between asterisks.) Then there’s a spondee: “dead an-” followed by two iambs: “-gels eyes leak black“
If you say there’s a caesura (pause) between the two stressed syllables of “dead an-” then that comes exactly in the middle of the line, which makes the line match an Old English poetic technique of putting a pause in the middle of the line, with either side equally weighted.
The second line also falls into pentameter. ”onto the pillow where she lays her head, cracked This line is very clearly trochaic. You can also see that a rhyme “black/cracked” comes exactly on time:
Twentyfour tears from a dead angels eyes leak black
onto the pillow where she lays her head, cracked
Dactyls (stressed, unstressed, unstressed) are really just extended trochees (stressed, unstressed), and spondees (stressed, stressed) can be seen as trochees with an extra emphasis. Given that the first line is often slightly out of rhythm with the rest of most metered poems (usually to grab the reader’s attention), I’d say the poem in this stream of consciousness wants to be written in trochaic pentameter. Find the lines that fit this rhythm, and that will help not only to give it structure, but it will help order the thoughts, too.
I wouldn’t worry about the rhymes. At least, not until the best lines are picked out and aligned in meter. Rhyme is much more suited for French and Italian and the other Romance languages than it is for English, which heavily favors alliteration and assonance.
For now, just put all the similes and metaphors aside, and try to piece together the main scene. It might also help to cut out all the adjectives, too. They’re really just window dressing, and aren’t needed before the window is installed.
The word you use make for a very elegant poem I just think that it needs refined. You rhyme though part of the poem but not throughout making it inconsistent. Parts are hard to follow. I still enjoyed reading it. The message being protrayed is still clear enough to understand. Maybe just put this into verses and it will make more sense. Keep writing. With some refinement this is gonna be really good.
Very nice. The double-spaced lines makes it a bit tricky to read as well as the incredibly long lines in some cases, however this is mostly cosmetic and I still enjoyed the peice. I look forwards to reading more of yours and I see great potential. Keep it up!
this is intresting. It is amusing to try to figure out the roles of the characters and the relationship between them. I also know this feeling, though it’s hard to put my finger on, to place it’s familiarity. I think the stanzas were well placed. The mood is captivating and the lack of specific claritty allows the reader to explore there own imagination to try to understand yours.
In each of your lines you have A LOT going on. Breaking them up even more might help. For me, the dialogue was strong and those lines could be on a line of their own and work very well. However, I read the poem very slow because it seemed like how you had written it was to be read that way, so spliting up lines might change that a tad. Don’t split the lines up too much…this is a strong poem that NEEDS to be read slow. Good job!
I really, really like this. I will say that you might want to do something with ” souls of the soulless, tempted by temptation” I fall victim to this type of writing myself. Other than that, I loved it , especially the last part.
Is this about death? Angels? I got kind of confused about the topic. I liked it, what I understood about it anyway.
As poetry, this doesn’t really work for me… It would need a lot of work (stanzas, rhythm, line breaks). However, with minimal work this could be an excellent piece of flash fiction. Just a suggestion.
Twentyfour tears from a dead angel(‘)s eyes leak black onto the pillow where she lays her head, cracked and faded like an old china doll… (a proper ellipse is . . .)
Her memories stir through her lifeless corpse(,) and a smile breaks her blue lips. “Not here”, she says, then shes gone…
The blood turns to ashes and a sense of loss prevails, a disembodied voice tells me “No one wins(,)” and I accept this without question…
“You’ll never be forgotten(,)” (s)She whispers in my ear,
I love the end of these three sentences
“You’ll never be forgiven(,)” (s)She whispers in my head,
“You’ll never be allowed to die(,)” (s)She screams into my dreams…
“Follow the future(,)”©Cry the beggars from the eternal damnation that they bare, “Don’t be afraid”…
“See(?) (Y)you’ll NEVER be forgiven(.)”
“Never forget, never forgotten(,)” she speaks so softly…
“Cut me loose from the umbilical binds that have burnt and slit my wrists,” Holy shit, what a bad assed line. Dang.
This piece really speaks to me. Well done.
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